“I know.”
The know was not a repair. It was a receipt. Daniel slept on the sectional. The sectional was a statement and a spine. Alicia slept in the bed and did not sleep. The drawings on the fridge stayed. A house could look like itself and be rearranged. In the morning she made coffee and set his mug where he liked it. He used a different mug. The different mug was petty and she allowed it. Petty was a tax. She had earned a tax.
Her sister, Renee, came Wednesday with nothing but her face. Alicia had called and said a jacket. Renee said, “A jacket is not a jacket.” Alicia said no. They sat in the office, which Alicia had cleaned, chair empty, and Renee did not sit in the chair. She sat on the floor. Floor was solidarity. Daniel came home and nodded at Renee and went to the garage. The nod was not warmth. It was a house that still let a sister in. Renee said, in the garage door, “I’m not here to defend a puzzle.” Daniel said, “Good.” They left it. Leaving it was the only agreement of the week.
Julian kept the clinic job for eleven days and then put in a transfer. Alicia heard from a nurse. She told Daniel because the rule was the text rule. He said good. He did not ask where. Where was a town she could have. He wanted the Saturdays back as Saturdays, not as a clock. He took one Saturday off. They went to a hardware store. Miles rode in the cart. Nobody mentioned college. The jacket was gone. The watch was gone. The question was not gone. It sat in the cart between the light bulbs. Daniel bought the bulbs. Alicia carried them. Carrying was a start she did not narrate.